When I first started this blog, I wrote in my header, “I am strong enough to rise above the drama.” Some days, I think that might just be wishful thinking! It takes a lot to not drown in the frustration, stress, and aggravation of constantly dealing with toxic, selfish people.
This week, I am trying hard to focus on tough workouts, sticking to my meal plans, and reaching a mini-goal. It would be a lot easier to do that if I didn’t have to worry constantly about my stepkids.
My husband and I have been doing our best to teach the oldest child, the one who moved in with us earlier this year, how to take care of himself. I would say that Psycho didn’t bother to teach him anything, but truth be told, she has nothing to offer him. How can she possibly teach him to be an independent adult when she is completely and helplessly reliant on her father? She isn’t even sane enough to be embarrassed by it.
All three of the younger kids have gotten F’s in school recently, a bright red flag that something is wrong. I can take my pick of countless bizarre and maladjusted things that could be the problem over there.
It is maddening. I see the chaos, the low expectations, the lack of guidance, and I know that we have only a weekend here and there to teach the kids better, to try to make a difference. I want the kids to be strong, independent, hard-working, able to think for themselves, make their own decisions, stand on their own two feet.
That is not, by a long shot, what anyone besides me and my husband wants for them, though. Keeping them dependent, clipping their wings, means they won’t dare question anything. Pitting them against each other means they can’t team up or stand up for each other. Essentially, the kids are beaten down so that others in their lives can keep them tightly under their thumbs, tell them what to think, what to do. I suppose it makes those people feel powerful, when it truly boils down to cowardly abuse and manipulation. And if the kids never aspire to be any better, then those around them can pretend that how they live is not pathetic and dysfunctional.
The very first time my oldest stepson paid his own bill, with money he earned himself, he became more of an adult than his egg donor will ever be. I’m not sure he realized that. In a way, I hope he didn’t, because who wants to face that their mother is nothing more than an enormously overgrown, caterwauling infant?
I don’t know if even half of what we say and teach and preach sinks into the kids’ brains. Everything we say is contradicted the moment they go back to their other home. I hope, for their sakes, that at least one thing sticks: the desire to rise above. To be better than what they observe around them.
So I keep talking to them. I keep showing them things. I keep teaching. And I will keep doing my best to also rise above, to not get weighed down by the aggravation and stress and worry. Maybe if I can do it, it will help them see that despite the negativity, despite others doing their best to shove them down, they can rise above all of this bullshit too.
Sweat & Sparkle 